Then again, Caine always maintained that, in the end, everything must come full circle.
Peter paced the length of the room. He knew his inability to sit still and wait amused his father, who occasionally glanced at him while showing his collection of herbs and flowers to the Mountie, but he just didn't feel right unless he was *doing* something. No matter how useless the "something."
Lula appeased her anxiety by talking, and she found a pair of receptive ears in Ray. The Italian cop had probably heard half her life story by now, but he didn't seem to be complaining and in fact had no trouble holding up his end of the conversation. The Ancient had left a short while ago to take Diefenbaker for a walk.
When he heard the first sounds of Donny's arrival, Peter dashed out to the door, throwing it open and dragging the man inside before closing it again securely. "Are you all right? Did you have any trouble getting here?"
Donny Double D tugged on his rumpled jacket in a vain effort to restore it to presentability. He had apparently been in hiding for some time. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Where's--?"
He had no chance to complete the sentence before Lula scooped him up into a crushing embrace and a liplock at which even Peter raised his eyebrows. Finally, after Peter had begun to marvel at her lung capacity, she set him down. "You had me worried sick!" she exclaimed, walking him back to the room with the others. "Don't you ever give me a scare like that again."
"Sorry, babe, I didn't have much choice. It's not like I could prance down Main Street after getting caught witnessing a murder."
"What?!" cried Peter, Lula, and Ray in perfect unison.
"Yeah, that's what I came to talk to you about," he explained to Peter. "I was out trying to find more dirt on this red-headed gal and I wound up with a lot more than I bargained for. I saw her off a guy." He shivered. "Shot him in the head, point-blank, not a flicker of emotion on her face."
He had the total attention of everyone in the room after such a revelation. Peter reached out to grab the informant's jacket again but checked himself at the last second and withdrew his hand. "Did you get a good look at her? Could you ID a picture of her or put together a composite?" He felt anticipation thrilling through his blood.
"Are you kidding? I was this close to her--I'm lucky she wasn't fast enough to take me out right then and there. I'll never forget her face."
Lula gasped and would have broken into another bout of scolding if Peter hadn't waved her to silence. "Great. I'll drive you to the precinct and you can--"
"No way! She's not stupid. She's got men looking for me, and that's the first place they'll stake out."
The detective groaned in frustration, but he knew Donny was right. Before his hopes fell too far, however, Fraser spoke up. "Perhaps I might be of assistance. Although I have had no formal training, I do have some small skill at rendering fairly accurate likenesses on paper. I would like to offer my talents as an alternative to risking this man's life by removing him from the safety of this building."
Peter looked at Ray. "Is he any good?" At the other officer's nod he snapped his fingers. "Then let's get the man a pencil and paper, shall we?" He hustled Fraser and Donny over to the table, sweeping aside the scattered implements of his father's apothecary trade, and set between them the pad of paper and pencil that Caine provided.
At that point the Ancient returned, Dief tagging faithfully alongside. Peter brought Lo Si up to speed on the situation while Ray once again kept Lula occupied by listening to her voice her vexation.
After a few minutes Peter noticed that the Mountie had stopped sketching. He stepped closer and peered at the drawing. His first glimpse of it was stunning; a trained artist couldn't have done a better job if the subject were sitting right in front of him. "Small skill" indeed.
The portrait depicted a beautiful young woman with short, straight hair and Grecian features. Peter could even see the force of a strong will shining from her eyes. He gave a low whistle. "She's gorgeous. It's hard to believe someone like her could be a cold-blooded killer."
Fraser's shoulders tensed, his back stiffening as though he were standing at attention. He set the sketch pad on the table next to his Stetson slowly and deliberately, laying the pencil neatly beside it. "Yes," he sighed. "I know."
Donny pointed excitedly at the drawing. "That's her. I'm sure of it. She's the one I saw."
At such emphatic testimony from the witness, Fraser winced. He pushed himself out of his chair. "I think...I need some fresh air," he announced, and strode off.
Peter watched the Mountie's retreating back, confused. He managed to catch Ray's eye and waved the other cop over. "Come take a look at this," he said.
"What is it?" Ray asked, joining Peter at the table.
"Something got your friend riled up. I thought nothing could get under his skin, you know? Almost like my father." He slid the pad over. "Check out this picture and tell me why it disturbed him like that."
Ray did so, leaning over the sketch with an agreeable smile. His expression turned grim almost instantly, however, and his head snapped around to stare at the doorway through which the Canadian had vanished. "Oh, my God!" he murmured, too stunned even to raise his voice. "Victoria."